Boo is nine months old now and definitely not a baby any more. Far from it; she’s a climbing, walking, raspberry blowing, cheeky little girl. Every day she is taking these huge leaps towards growing up and becoming her own person with likes, dislikes and a larger than life personality to boot. She is developing more independence now she can get exactly where or exactly what she wants without help and her personality is emerging. And it’s got me thinking – who am I?!
Caught up in the whirlwind of mummy-hood over the last nine months I have to admit to forgetting myself a bit. Life has quite rightly revolved around Boo but now she is no longer a placid, compliant sleeping baby, I have more time for me.
But just who am I; not just as a person but as a parent? The husband comes into the equation here too, because, in my little experience in the parenting field, we need to be as united as possible.
Before I was even pregnant I knew that although we do differ in experience and ideas of raising a child, our fundamental beliefs are the same. Or at least very similar. Now Boo is here and rapidly becoming a little person we seem to have slotted nicely into our own individual roles.
Happily for me, I am Good Cop. I wipe the tears, give the treats and read stories and have cuddles. Poor Bad Cop daddy is left with the majority of the discipline purely, I think, because he has a shorter fuse than me. Similarly, I think I have taken the reigns as Good Cop because I’m a softie. Boo is my baby and can do no wrong. I know this is likely to bite me pretty hard in the behind as she gets bigger!
As well as Bad Cop, the husband has also adopted the role of Fun Daddy. I am a bit envious of this. Boring Mummy (that’s me) is always around; I’m the reliable parent, part of the furniture. She knows she can come to me for cuddles or if she wants something. But Fun Daddy is the one who really makes her laugh. And I mean really laugh, eye and nose streaming, high pitched squealing, hysterical laughter. Usually while Boring Mummy is doing something suitably boring like cooking dinner or tidying the toys.
Parentwise, I’m not a Yummy Mummy – that’s far too time consuming for me, and frankly I am too attached to my pyjamas and too impatient to re-paint my nails to match my outfit every day. I hope I’m not a Slummy Mummy either, although I suppose I do veer dangerously close at times, I am yet to leave the house without make-up or sorting my hair out (as there’s usually dried in Weetabix from breakfast to be removed).
I seem to have got my parenting roles down to a T and thankfully I am happy with the kind of mummy labels I’ve ended up with. But the question of who I am still hangs in the air. I’m definitely not the woman I was before Boo was born, since I was pregnant really. I’m not as selfish, as closed minded and my patience now knows no bounds. Boo shows me the world through her eyes, and a world that is new and fascinating has really made me appreciate all the small things that went unnoticed before.
So all I need to do know is remember who I am again. I may not be the woman I used to be, or even the woman my husband married, but I’d like to think I’m an improved version.